


Bastion

by Supdudes95



Category: Banana Bus Squad
Genre: Amnesia, Gen, Post-War, Sad, Tragedy, War, i think, no happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-12
Updated: 2019-04-12
Packaged: 2020-01-12 10:31:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18444746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Supdudes95/pseuds/Supdudes95
Summary: He wakes up under a cover of dirt, moss and flowers, not remembering how he ended up there, or who he is.





	Bastion

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, there!   
> Okay, so my third one-shot. (Reality was supposed to be one, but someone wanted a second part ;))   
> If it seems familiar for some, it might be because it's based on the short film/cinematic trailer for Overwatch "The last bastion".   
> I don't play overwatch myself, but that video inspired me!   
> So, I hope ye enjoy!

Darkness. He woke to darkness. Darkness and the feeling of suffocating. Suffocating and chocking. His heart started beating quicker as every breath resulted in more sand down his airpipe. He sat up, trying his best to cough up the dirt and grass that had been stuck in his throat.

Where was he?

He opened his eyes and squinted against the bright light. It took a while before they adjusted, but when they finally did, he could see his surroundings clearly.

He was in a clearing. Huge trees were stretching high above him, birds sang while navigating between the branches, leaves rustling in the faint breeze. The smell of earth and pines invaded his nostrils.

How did he get here?

Trying to lift his arms, he discovered that he was covered in a thick layer of dirt and moss. Small flowers were blooming around him. Even his hair felt like a flower crown.

He shook his head, more dirt getting slung in every possible direction. He let a hand slide through his dark locks, noticing the plants getting stuck between his fingers. Then they hooked on something else. A piece of fabric was tied around his head. He dragged it off and let it hang over his palm. The fabric was probably supposed to be white, but was stained with filth and a rust coloured substance. Examining it closer, he could just make out a faded mark made with what he thought could be marker. It seemed to be a small drawing of an owl. Just the head of it, and quite simple in design.

Why did he wear it?

He looked down on himself and began to dust himself off. Or, more correctly, dig himself out. He started to wonder how in the world he had ended up under all this shit. Maybe his friends had done it as a prank. Waited until he was drunk enough and then dragged him into the woods, burying him under enough dirt to think he had been there for years. Centuries even.

His friends. He missed them. Why did he miss them? Who were his friends? He didn’t know anyone. Who was he?

_Who was he?_

He felt his heart speed up again as he scrambled up on his feet. Loosing his balance as if he hadn’t used his legs for ages, he faceplanted right back into the tall grass.

_Deep breaths, Evan, come on, deep breaths._

Was his name Evan? He guessed it was. Why else would he have thought of it?

He shivered in his blood red leather jacket. It wasn’t cold, not at all. He was just scared. Terrified. Lonely. Alone.

He curled up on the ground, fighting the urge to weep. When was the last time he cried?

_Baby blues staring into his chocolate brown. A hand stretching out toward him. Almost there. Almost. Almost touching. Inches away. The blue eyes widened. Mouth widening in a sickening scream. His own lips shouting a name. Tears streaming down his cheeks. Red. Red against blue. Sky filled with red sunset. Blood seeping into the blue of his best friend’s hoodie. Hockey mask laying in the mud by their feet, a crack running across its surface._

He wanted to scream. The pain was almost unbearable. He couldn’t breathe. And then he could. In and out. In and out. Inhale, exhale.

His legs didn’t buckle this time. He was able to stand without problems. His little moment was long forgotten as he stared into the darker parts of the woods. It was pulling him. He didn’t know to where, but the urge to follow was too strong not to obey. His legs were moving before he could react.

He didn’t know where he was going, or why his was going there. He just knew he had to. There was no reason to question it. He was heading somewhere, one step at the time, up hills, down slopes, under branches, over tree trunks, never stopping, never looking anywhere else than forward.

Then he did stop.

He was there.

A silence fell over him. The birds stopped singing. The wind stopped making his hair dance. The rustle of leaves didn’t reach his ears anymore.

He was standing in the middle of a field. Or was it the horizon? In the distance lay huge skyscrapers and towers. Buildings forming an impenetrable wall. An unwelcome sight that chilled him to the bone. He hated that place. He didn’t know why, but he hated it. He didn’t know anything, but yet he knew everything.

He knew he hated that city with a passion. He knew he loved the sound of birds singing in the forest. He knew he hated the smell of gunpowder and blood. He knew he loved _those_ blue eyes more than anything in the world. He knew he hated those who took _them_ away from him.  

He looked down. An empty stare from a broken hockey mask was the only thing that met his gaze.

Sizzling hot pain shot through the back of his eyes. He almost fell over from the force of it.

_They were down to the final seven. The resistance was trying their best to stop the armed forces before they reached the edge of the forest. It was a bloodbath. How could he have been so stupid. He should have known the empire would have a secret weapon. The machines were powerful and difficult to destroy. One machine, five people. Five good people. Five people who believed in the right thing. Five people who had lives they wanted to live. Five good people dead at the hands of one machine._

_Their own weapons weren’t powerful enough. Not by a long shot. One bullet couldn’t penetrate the thick metal. It was no use. They should surrender. But no one did. They continued to fight the monsters. The ones who believed in torture, poverty and darkness. Fighting for their own beliefs. Fighting for their rights. Fighting for their lives._

_Brian fell. They were now six fighting the thousands. He fell for his people. He died saving the one standing behind him. He was destroyed trying to protect. He was trying to keep everyone safe, and he failed. But he didn’t. The one standing behind him got out. The one standing behind him was safe for the moment, and that’s what counted._

_Anthony fell. They were five people fighting. Five versus one machine. Five versus thousands of machines. This was the end of great people. Of great friends. Anthony had died with honor. He had destroyed the machine, but it destroyed him in the aftermath. The explosion roared. No more Anthony. Just his courage could be seen as the bright light that temporarily blinded everyone._

_Nogla fell. They were four. Death was pulling at them. Death was gripping at their feet. She was nipping at their heels. Nogla fell with a shot to his gut. A fatal blow. He didn’t give up. He continued to engage. Another bullet penetrated his flesh. His shoulder this time. He didn’t even flinch. He kept going. The last bullet hit him between the eyes. It was done. He was done._

_Brock fell. The last three. He knelt on the muddy ground beside his fallen partner. His friend. His family. His protector. Watching the machine walk towards them. No fear was left in him. He faced his fate. He faced death with a welcoming smile tugging on his lips while the machine drew its leg back before bringing it forward towards the kneeling man with fire in his eyes._

_Tyler fell. Two left. Two left to fend off the government. Two against the world. The anger was leaving him as bullets. Ten people running turned to ten people dead. He was too busy looking forward, forgetting to look behind him. Two hands wrapped around his throat. Two hands dragged him backwards. Two hands ended him._

_Jonathan fell. One. One person left. One to kill the thousands. One left to grieve his friends. One left to remember them. One left to stand their ground. Baby blue eyes widening in terror. Mouth turned in a broken scream. Hand reaching towards him in a last effort to feel the comfort and warmth of a best friend’s touch. Reaching out, begging to be saved. Begging for him to end this nightmare. Let him wake up and realise all of this was a dream. A horrid, disgusting, beautiful dream. Red blood spreading across blue cotton._

_One._

_One person left._

_One person turning._

_One person running._

_One person leaving his friends behind._

_One person sitting against the trunk of a tree._

_One person closing his eyes and forgetting._

Evan opened his eyes. He was sitting on the ground. The city shone in the distance. No birds were singing. The smell of gunpowder was burning his nose. He couldn’t find _those_ blue eyes. The people who took them away from him was in the city. And he wanted to go there. He wanted to destroy them like they had destroyed his world. His friends. His family.

But he had no fight left in him. He was where he was supposed to be. He was where he was supposed to have been ages ago. He was where he belonged.

He sat down on the grass-covered ground and picked up the broken mask. Hugging it tight against his chest, he lay down and looked up at the sky. He felt his heart skip a beat.

He was with his friends, now.

He was home.

His heart stopped as a content smile graced his lips.


End file.
